


It's Dark Inside

by AlmostSilent



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Basically half the Amis are in a mental hospital, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Psychiatric Hospital AU, rated teen because Grantaire says fuck a lot, so mentions of mental health, what am I doing with these chapter titles? No one knows.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2016-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:52:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 16,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlmostSilent/pseuds/AlmostSilent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras goes undercover into a mental hospital. He's hoping to get a good story out of it, to uncover the corruption in the system. What he gets is so much more.</p><p>Grantaire's finally found a family at this hospital and for the first time feels like he belongs somewhere (it says more about him than he'd like that that place is a mental hospital, but he's not complaining). Right up until Enjolras shows up to turn his whole world upside down.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Can't Be Trusted With Shoelaces

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on AO3 and really my first proper fic in years, so be gentle with me.
> 
> Title comes from the Imagine Dragons song 'Demons'.
> 
> !A warning before you read this!  
> Technically this work is unfinished, the last 'chapter' is just a summary of how the fic should have/would have ended, but I didn't actually write the last 3 chapters.

Enjolras honestly wasn't sure exactly what to expect as he followed the man leading him into the building, an orderly judging by his uniform. There was a small flash of doubt in his mind as the door to the ward buzzed open, but it was too late to turn back now.

To be fair, the situation was of his own making, he was the one who boldly stated that he'd do whatever it took to get a story. Because to him it was never just a story, not really. He's an investigative journalist and that means uncovering things that people want to keep buried, things that people need to know. And so really, it's not his fault that the only way to really find out what's going on at Bradey psychiatric hospital was to go in undercover as a patient.

Getting himself admitted as an inpatient was easier than it really ought to have been. After Enjolras had done exhaustive research into the hospital and it's staff and every drop of information he could find out, he was sure that he needed to get inside to get the proof he needed. So, he came up with a plan, simple in it's design but effective. He went to the doctor, claiming to need help with insomnia. Of course the doctor, in his effort to help, asked Enjolras if he knew what might be causing it. Now Enjolras was no great actor, but he did have a talent for making people believe him. So when he feigned reluctance to tell the doctor the cause, and then he eventually did admit to the doctor that his insomnia was caused by his long hours spent hunting for demons and monsters, the doctor believed him. Believed him enough to immediately request someone from Bradey to come and collect him.

Which is how he ended up waiting to speak to a doctor on this ward. Enjolras wasn't particularly worried, pretending to believe in demons and other supernatural beings is hardly difficult. An easy lie, in the scheme of things. He's not sure how long he'll be able to keep fooling them, but it only needs to be long enough for him to gather the facts and damning proof he needs. And he won't settle for just exposing a few doctors for malpractice, no he has his eyes set on the man in charge. Dr Javert. Everything Enjolras heard about that man was bad news, that's what sparked his interest in this place, and really the more he learned the more convinced he was that there were serious problems here.

After half an hour of waiting on a plastic chair in a rather depressing hallway, Enjolras was finally called in to see the doctor.

"My name's Joly," he seemed pleasant enough, but also much younger than Enjolras had expected, he couldn't be much older than Enjolras himself, mid-twenties at the most.

"Honestly, I'm not sure why I'm here," Enjolras said, playing the part, "I have a bit of insomnia is all."

"Yes, I heard," Joly looked down at a file in front of him, "Do you mind if I ask what's causing the insomnia?"

"I don't really like talking about it," Enjolras shifted in his seat, trying to look uncomfortable, "It's not really something the general population should know about, they just aren't ready."

"Aren't ready for what Enjolras?"

"The truth," a shrug, "That there are dark forces at work all around us and no one is safe," the lies come easily, the part not difficult to play.

"Do you not feel safe?" The concern is clear in the doctor's voice.

"I'm safer than some I suppose, at least I know what's out there, I know how to fight it. Though, that does put me in danger, but I have to, I have to fight them or who else will? It's my job to protect people from an enemy they don't know is there. So I mean, yeah, sometimes I have trouble sleeping."

"That sounds like a very heavy burden to have to deal with on your own," Joly's smile is kind and Enjolras finds, to his surprise, it's totally genuine, "What would you say to maybe staying here for a while so we can help you deal with it?"

"I don't know," Enjolras pretends to be conflicted, "I can't exactly take time off, people's lives depend on me. If I'm not there, who'll kill the demons? Who'll stop the innocent from getting hurt?"

"The more important question might be: What would happen if you exhausted yourself, ran yourself down to the point where you wouldn't even be able to look after yourself? I can see how tired you are from here," Which honestly was all Enjolras, too many all-nighters spent working, but if it worked for his cover…

"You're right, I am getting pretty exhausted," Enjolras let Joly believe he was being talked into it, "Maybe it couldn't hurt."

The intake process was somewhat easier than Enjolras had expected, especially considering the only true information he provided was his name and the year he was born. It was sometimes a necessity of his work to use false identities and credentials, so Enjolras was fairly used to that.

After the paperwork was all sorted out, Enjolras was divested of all his personal belongings, including his clothes. He was prepared for this and had no problem handing over his new burner phone, the wallet full of false cards and a little money, and his jeans and polo shirt. Once he was dressed in the white cotton t-shirt and pale blue pajama pants he was shown to his room. And his roommate.

"Hey," The young man greeted with a bright smile, jumping off his bed, "They didn't tell me I was finally getting a new roommate. I'm Jehan."

He looked to be about Enjolras' age, and about the same height. He had broad shoulders and Enjolras could tell he was physically fit through the thin cotton of his shirt. But his face was soft, framed by shoulder length strawberry blonde hair that somehow managed to make him look delicate, despite his size.

"Enjolras," he shook the other man's extended hand.

"It's okay Mike, I can show him around," Jehan's smile became slightly tightened as he addressed the silent orderly who'd escorted Enjolras to the room. Enjolras was only slightly surprised when the man disappeared without saying a word, "There are some really great people who work here, but then some who aren't," Jehan frowned slightly, "Not that Mike's one of the worst, he just really doesn't care."

"Oh," was all Enjolras could think to say. But then the smile was back on Jehan's face, as brilliant as when Enjolras first entered the room.

"Okay, so honestly I'm not very good at giving the tour," Jehan said, leading them out of the room, "R will decide whether or not he likes you, and if he does he'll do the whole introductory thing. He loves it."

"And if he doesn't?" Enjolras glanced at Jehan while still trying to pay attention to the route they were taking, "Like me, I mean."

"Oh, I didn't mean to make it sound so ominous," Jehan laughed, slightly higher than Enjolras would've expected, a soft sound, "He's just protective of all of us, he needs to make sure we can trust newcomers, but you seem nice enough and once you're one of us you'll see he's actually a really amazing guy."

Enjolras didn't have much time to worry about what he was going to say to this mysterious 'R', because they had just entered what seemed to be the communal recreation and living area. Chairs and tables were dotted around, as well as sofas and armchairs around a small television set. There was also a piano over by the largest windows on the back wall. It was quite the sight really.

Jehan was quickly pulling him over to a group that was collected around two of the tables closest to the piano and the windows. There were five of them, and noted that four of the five were men, all around his age, the fifth was a girl, possibly a bit younger than the rest.

"Jehan have you brought me a present?" One of the men exclaimed, hands clasped over his chest. Enjolras noted his curly brown hair and young face, pale skin with cheeks flushed pink.

"Courf, we've had this conversation," one of the other men looked pointedly at the curly-haired man, but his tone was more fondly exasperated than honestly chastising. Enjolras looked to the new speaker, who also had some impressively curly hair, though his was darker and much more wild. He was also more scruffy looking, with dark stubble and shadows under his eyes, but he made it look good somehow.

"You're such a killjoy R, honestly," Courf flopped in his chair dramatically.

"Aren't you going to introduce us Jehan?" the man - the mysterious 'R' it would seem - was looking at Enjolras as he spoke, his gaze appraising. He wasn't exactly what Enjolras had been expecting, though really he hadn't had time to form expectations.

"This is Enjolras, he's my new roommate," Jehan smiled, "Enjolras this is Courfeyrac," he indicated the dramatic brunette, "Bahorel," a large muscular man with tan skin and dark hair, "Bossuet," a bald-headed, dark skinned man with an impressive looking bruise on his jaw, but a smile on his face, "Eponine," the one girl of the group, long brown hair obscured her face, "And Grantaire."

Returning his gaze back to Grantaire, Enjolras met his eyes. They were shockingly blue, not a dark blue like Enjolras' own, but an ice blue unlike anything he'd seen before. And Enjolras was staring. He could feel himself flush a little, but he didn't drop the other man's gaze. It probably wouldn't help to show any sign of weakness.

"So, Enjolras, tell me something about yourself," Grantaire smirked slightly. It was a test, Enjolras just wasn't sure what the right answer was. Or what a wrong answer would be.

"I hate tomatoes," he shrugged. And he could honestly kick himself. Now wasn't the time for panicking. He needed contacts here if he was going to uncover the truth and make it out the other side. Now wasn't the time to get distracted by blue eyes or say something stupid that could put him at odds with people whose help he might need.

"Yeah, me too," Surprisingly, Grantaire was grinning. Enjolras could only hope that this meant he'd passed the test and hadn't, in fact, stuck his foot in it, "This your first time inside?"

"That obvious, huh?" Enjolras sat down in the chair Jehan indicated for him, directly opposite Grantaire.

"You can usually spot the returning customers," Grantaire's smile looked easy and casual, but Enjolras thought that maybe it was more of a mask than a real, honest smile.

"I said you'd give him the unofficial tour R," Jehan smiled over at Grantaire, and Grantaire's own smile changed, confirming Enjolras' theory. Grantaire's genuine smile was warmer, it sparkled in his eyes and lit up his face. And really, that was more than Enjolras meant to notice. Honestly.

"Of course," And there was an undercurrent of humour to his words, "Because who else will give an honest valuation of this place while showing you the best place to go have a smoke?"

There seemed to be an amused agreement between the two tables at that and Enjolras had to wonder how long they'd all been here. One of the things Enjolras had found interesting in his research of this place was that they had far more long-term patients than other facilities like it. In fact, most of their patients seemed to stay far longer than what might be considered average.

“Come on then new kid, we don't have long until dinner,” Grantaire stood up from his chair and rolled his shoulders. Enjolras couldn't really tell how muscular R was because he wore his regulation t-shirt baggy on his frame, but his arms were toned with thinly defined muscles. His hips were on the narrower side but that only added to his lean frame, highlighting his surprisingly broad shoulders. And really Enjolras needed to stop staring.

He quickly followed Grantaire out of the rec area. Enjolras wasn't the kind of person who got distracted this way. Yes, Grantaire was objectively attractive, but honestly he needed to get ahold of himself. He had a job to do here.

Enjolras listened attentively as Grantaire pointed things out, and he actually was a good guide, by the time they reached the door to the roof Enjolras knew where everything was and what areas were best to avoid (“There's nearly always someone crying in those toilets, it's weird. I still have no idea why.”) The roof was apparently the best place to go if you wanted to smoke.

“Really? I can't be trusted with shoelaces but an unlocked door to the roof of the building is fine?” Enjolras filed the information away.

“Nothing about this place makes sense new kid, but don't look a gift horse in the mouth, yeah? We're the only ward with roof access, I got transferred to a different ward for a bit a while back, no roof access, it was tragic,” Grantaire led them up a very short flight of stairs and through a heavy fire door that was propped open.

Enjolras was surprised to see an orderly standing up on the roof, taking one last drag of a cigarette before crushing it under his white shoe.

“Feuilly! My good man, how goes things?” Grantaire greeted the man with a smile.

“Same as ever,” Feuilly shrugged with a half smile, “I have to go take Selma for her walk, but you tell Bahorel he still owes me that rematch.”

“Will do,” Grantaire laughed as the red-headed orderly left through the door they'd just come from. Then he pulled out a pack of cigarettes from where they were stashed in one of the vents, he offered one to Enjolras.

“Thanks,” Enjolras took the offered cigarette. He wasn't really a smoker but Enjolras did enjoy the occasional smoke, at least in part because people tended to be more trusting when you shared a smoke with them, for whatever reason.

“Feuilly's really the only decent orderly in this place,” Grantaire said, lighting his own cigarette then handing the lighter to Enjolras, “You'll find it's best to ignore the rest when you can. And the only nurses worth anything are Marius and Musichetta, the others are miserable sadists. Same with the doctors really, they're all incompetent assholes, though Joly's a nice guy. And there's the new one, but no one knows him well enough yet.”

Enjolras took this all in while inhaling the pleasant warmth of his cigarette. He'd already come to his own decision about Joly, he was nice enough but too mild-mannered to openly speak out against his employers. But he'd have to keep an eye out for the others.

“Anyway, here's the deal kid-”

“That's really getting annoying you know,” Enjolras interrupted without thinking, and mentally cursed himself, “I'm not a kid.”

“Hey, I just call 'em like I see 'em,” Grantaire smirked, “You're what, 17? 18?”

“23.”

“No shit,” Grantaire was visibly surprised. Enjolras was used to it, his youthful looks even proved useful on occasion, but mostly it was just frustrating, “Well, I stand corrected. My bad Apollo,” Enjolras raised his eyebrows but refrained from interrupting this time, “As I was saying, there are some unspoken rules around here that you need to know.”

Grantaire paused, taking a long drag of his cigarette. He was looking out over the ledge of the roof, which came to about chest height. He looked almost serene for a moment, before it passed and he went back to looking vaguely amused.

“Rule 1, you don't ask anyone what they're in for. If they want to tell you they will. If not, well, it's none of your fucking business,” Grantaire's tone was serious, almost stern as he met Enjolras' eyes. Enjolras nodded, “Right, rule 2, don't trust anyone here. Everyone has an angle.”

“Even you?”

“Especially me,” Grantaire's grin was full of mischievous charm and really that wasn't fair, Enjolras hated how interested he was in this beautiful stranger.

“I'll keep that in mind,” Enjolras nodded gravely, but his tone belied his amusement. 

“Okay,” R laughed, “Where was I? Yeah, rule 3, no one takes group therapy seriously. It's like a circle jerk for feelings, so we usually make a game of it. The most ridiculous bullshit you can get the doc to believe. Gotta do something to alleviate the boredom.”

That didn't really sound like a rule to Enjolras, but he could appreciate the sentiment. He took one final drag of his cigarette before stubbing it out on the wall. He hadn't noticed when R had finished his, but seemingly at some point he had. They turned and started walking back to the door.

“Rule 4, probably the most important,” Grantaire finally said when they were back inside, “If you've got a roommate, you have his back. So yeah, you watch out for Jehan, he watches out for you. Pretty simple really,” there was a weighty seriousness to Grantaire's tone, and Enjolras wondered what exactly their backs needed watching out for. But he nodded, “Great,” Grantaire nodded back, and suddenly all tension was gone and the easy smile was back as they headed to the dining area to meet the other's for dinner.


	2. Robots in Drag

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought about waiting to upload this, because it didn't turn out exactly how I wanted it to? But it's probably as good as it's going to get, so enjoy.

Grantaire wasn't sure what to make of the new guy. He studied him as they joined the others for dinner. The way his eyes focused on everything with such an intensity, like every detail was important. R had never seen anyone look like that before, certainly not in this place. He made it a point never to wonder about someone's diagnosis, their reason for being here, mostly because he knew it wasn't always true. Probably half the patients in here were misdiagnosed. But he couldn't help but wonder with this man, simply because he didn't fit. It probably didn't have anything to do with how beautiful he was, how much Grantaire wanted to run his fingers through his hair and kiss him until he couldn't breathe. Probably.

It was ridiculous, honestly, not least because they were in a fucking mental hospital. Who lusts after a guy they just met in the nuthouse? Well, obviously if anyone would it would be Grantaire. But really the only thing he could do was keep an eye on Enjolras and ignore his traitorous brain when it reminds him how attractive the golden haired god is. Because really, he's like Apollo incarnate.

“Okay guys, I've got Miller in the morning, so I need to go bullshit something for the dream journal,” Grantaire sighed, standing up with a roll of his tense shoulders.

“Are you gonna use the one we talked about?” Jehan asked with an eager smile, “Because I still think you should.”

“I'm pretty sure if I use that one I'll be on new meds by noon,” R couldn't help but laugh, “But I'll think about it.”

The others all called out their goodbyes and Grantaire made his way to his room. Usually he stayed out until curfew because it had been a while since he'd had a roommate and there were certain disadvantages that came with having a room to himself. One of these disadvantages being that he was forced into being alone even when he didn't want to be.

There were definitely days when Grantaire was thankful for the solitude, when he'd spend a week in bed and ignore everything and everyone else. But sometimes being alone with his thoughts only made things worse. Today was probably not a good day to be alone with his thoughts, but he did honestly have to bullshit some dreams for Miller. He'd learned pretty quickly that most of the doctors here weren't interested in the truth, and they probably wouldn't believe you if you told it. For whatever reason they had a much easier time believing the lies. The truth in this instance was that for the most part Grantaire didn't remember his dreams. So, after spending nearly an hour rambling about robots in drag and sharks singing the songs from RENT (and secretly looking forward to what Miller had to say about that) he was almost glad for the distraction when a figure stood in his doorway (doors weren't allowed to be closed before curfew). Except that distraction turned out to be Montparnasse.

“What do you want?” Grantaire asked, not bothering to stand up from where he was sat at his small desk.

“I can't come and see you without wanting something?” His tone of false hurt would be more convincing if he wasn't wearing that sly grin.

“I'm too tired to deal with your shit 'Parnasse.”

“Aw, I'm hurt,” he clearly wasn't, “And I was just going to ask you to keep me company tonight,” he trailed his hand over Grantaire's shoulder to behind his neck. Grantaire shrugged him off and stood up.

“I told you I was done with that. Multiple times actually,” Which was true, Montparnasse just liked to pretend he couldn't take a hint, “You need to find someone else to annoy now 'Parnasse and leave me the fuck alone, it's getting a bit pathetic.”

Grantaire knew better than to stick around after insulting Montparnasse (he learned that one the hard way) so he was out the door and headed towards the rec hall before 'Parnasse could react.

“That was quick, I thought we weren't going to be seeing you again tonight?” Bahorel quirked an eyebrow as Grantaire sat down in his usual seat at the table.

“My least favourite orderly stopped by for a visit,” Grantaire shrugged. A few heads nodded in understanding, they all knew what had happened between him and Montparnasse. Everyone except Enjolras of course, but at least he had the good sense not to ask. He might survive this place yet.

“I thought Montparnasse had finally taken the hint?” Bossuet asked with a slight frown, his head cocked to the side.

“He knows fucking well that if I ever have to see his smarmy face again it'll be a million years too soon,” Grantaire shook his head, “I don't know why he won't just give it up.”

“I'm guessing it's because you're just that good in bed,” Courfeyrac chimed in with a suggestive grin. Enjolras made a sound like he was choking on his own tongue, Grantaire chose to ignore that.

“You're just saying that because you're dying to find out,” R replied with obvious amusement. His friends were honestly the best part of him, no question. He didn't know what he'd do without them most of the time.

“I don't know why you're so against it 'Taire, I'm a phenomenal lover,” when Grantaire burst out laughing Courf looking indignant, “Just ask Jehan if you don't believe me,” and the suggestive smirk was back.

“All due respect, which to be fair isn't a lot, but I have exactly zero desire to hear about what you and Jehan get up to after curfew,” But he couldn't help but smile. Courf was a chronic flirt and tried to sleep with nearly all of his friends, Jehan was tactile and affectionate and truly loved his friends, honestly their friends with benefits situation had reached the point where they were almost in an open relationship. It would almost be sweet if they weren't both habitual over-sharers and really, Grantaire already knew more about their sex life than anyone ever should.

“So what are you going to do about Montparnasse?” Jehan asked, his chin resting on his hand as he leaned on the table.

“Well, I expect the next time I see him I won't leave the enounter without a black eye,” it would probably be worse, Grantaire knew how bad 'Parnasse's temper could be, “I kind of called him pathetic. Which, while being true, probably wasn't my best move,” he shrugged. Grantaire didn't want his friends to know he was honestly worried, he'd often thought Montparnasse was unstable enough that he should be a patient, not in charge of them. It was Grantaire's job to try and make sure his friends didn't have to worry about things like that.

Enjolras looked like he desperately wanted to say something and was having to fight very hard to keep his mouth shut. Grantaire was thankful he was keeping his opinions to himself, but he doubted the golden-haired ball of fire could handle it for very long.

“Who's got group with the new guy tomorrow?” It was a rather obvious change in conversation, but it worked, and soon everyone was sharing theories about the new doctor on staff. He was apparently fresh out of med school and no one had actually met him yet, but Grantaire, Bahorel and Enjolras were all in his group session in the afternoon. Enjolras, who's only just received his timetable after dinner, was curious as to why the groups changed so frequently.

“Why not just have the same people in the same group every week? Surely it's easier.”

“Well, officially there are a few reasons,” Grantaire explained, “One being that it means patients don't get too much up in each other's business. Two, that it gives every doctor the chance to get too much up in every patients business. And three because they figured out that grouping patients by their diagnosis was just a stupid fucking idea.”

“And the unofficial reason?” Enjolras asked after a brief pause. At Jehan's laughter and Grantaire's amused shrug, he just looked confused. Grantaire couldn't help but think he looked fucking adorable.

“It's actually R's fault,” Jehan smiled, fondness mixed in with his amusement, “He would aggravate the doctor's and rile up the other patients and no one could handle him for more than a week, But they couldn't just move him around without it looking suspicious and letting everyone know that actually they're all idiots, so they started rotating everyone.”

Enjolras honestly looked like he wasn't sure whether to believe Jehan or not, which really just highlighted how little he knew them. Because really, Jehan didn't have it in him to lie for no reason.

“In my defence, it wasn't always on purpose,” Grantaire added with a half-shrug. Enjolras made a face that made it clear he didn't think that was much of a defence. Which, well, maybe it wasn't.

They all kept talking until curfew, even though usually the others would disappear before then, filtering out as they got tired or bored or whatever. Everyone seemed interested in Enjolras, but he deftly avoided answering questions about himself. Anything he did reveal was vague and unimportant information that really didn't reveal anything at all. By the end of the night all they could say they knew about him other than his dislike for tomatoes, was that he was smart (they way he spoke made it obvious he was well educated), and that he'd never read Harry Potter (Grantaire and Jehan were both equally shocked and appalled at that). But Grantaire had been watching more closely and he'd seen some of what Enjolras was trying to hide. Like when Bossuet mused that he thought the local elections were coming up soon but that he hadn't seen anything about it on TV, and Enjolras clenched his jaw and balled up his fists but remained silent. Or when Grantaire made a joke about Nietzsche that no one else understood but he'd caught Enjolras biting down a smile. 

It really wasn't helping Grantaire's over the top interest in him, but he found himself desperate to find out what exactly Enjolras was keeping so secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, if some of them seem kind of OOC, it's because I've had to work them around a diagnosed mental disorder. I've managed to keep their disorders in keeping with their personalities (though I might not explicitly say what they're diagnosed with unless you guys really want to know? And then I might work it into the story, or maybe just put it in the notes? Let me know what you guys want and I'll be happy to oblige), and the only one who doesn't actually have a mental illness is Bossuet (but that will be explained later in the story). So yeah, I just wanted to explain that so you didn't think I was just making them OOC for no reason.  
> Urgh, sorry for the really annoyingly long notes.


	3. Doesn't it Get Lonely?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beta'd by the lovely [chlorineandcoffeestains](http://archiveofourown.org/users/chlorineandcoffeestains/pseuds/chlorineandcoffeestains). Who is an angel sent from heaven and a lovely person and you should all go and read her stuff because she's crazy talented.  
> Okay, on with the chapter.

Enjolras spent over an hour after lights out making notes in one of the notebooks provided for him in his room. He wasn't worried about it being found because no one else would be able to read Enjolras' cryptic short hand. Jehan had already informed him that he didn't always sleep, but when he did it usually wasn't until the middle of the night.

“The new meds I'm on are supposed to help, but they don't. I'm used to it though,” Jehan smiled apologetically.

“That's fine, I don't need much sleep anyway, and when I do I sleep like the dead so it's not going to bother me,” Enjolras reassured.

It was only his first day so he didn't have much to make note of. Of course he wrote down that apparently one of the orderlies was not only violent but having an inappropriate relationship with a patient. But thinking about that made him irrationally angry and more than a little uncomfortable, so he promptly stopped thinking about it.

Even just lying there in his bed Enjolras couldn't completely get Grantaire out of his mind. He was crude and infuriatingly pessimistic and treated everything as a joke, but he also made casual references to philosophers and classical literature and he clearly cared fiercely about his friends and he was honestly smart even though he seemed to want to pretend he wasn't. He was a conundrum, a puzzle and a distraction and Enjolras hated him for that. Or he wanted to. He was trying very hard to mean it.

There were only two options as far as Enjolras was concerned, either he tries to solve the puzzle that was Grantaire and hopes that after that he can just focus on the story he'd actually here to investigate, or he could try to ignore his confused feelings for the other man and hope they just go away. The answer was pretty obvious, because really Enjolras had only known R for less than a day. All he had to do was focus on the story and soon he'd be out of here and Grantaire would just be a distant memory. Because avoidance was Enjolras' best friend.

With that resolved, Enjolras fell asleep earlier than he usually would that night and woke up feeling groggy and confused from too much sleep, he'd got close to eight hours. He followed behind Jehan as they made their way to the dining hall for breakfast, shuffling his bare feet along the cold floor.

He was put into an even worse mood when he tasted the watered down coffee that really did nothing for him. But he chewed angrily on his toast and listened to the conversation happening around him. He was therefore a little distracted when the nurses came around handing out medication.

“'Taire honey, I think they've put you on another new pill,” The woman frowned. She looked more like a model than a nurse, with wavy brown hair that had natural highlights the colour of honey, voluptuous curves and skin that was medium brown and flawlessly smooth. Even Enjolras could see she was attractive, and he didn't usually notice women in that way.

“Hey 'Chetta. Yeah, I think Joly mentioned something about it,” Grantaire shrugged as he took the small cup from the nurse. Enjolras couldn't help but notice there were a lot of pills in the cup, too many to count from where he was sitting, more than any other cup on the tray she was holding.

“Well, I hope it's nothing like the last new pill they put you on,” And she looked genuinely concerned. “You must be Enjolras,” she smiled down at him and picked a cup off the table, “This one's for you.”

Enjolras looked down at the pill in the cup. He had hoped to avoid this to be honest, he knew anti-psychotic medication was sometimes prescribed for the symptoms he was faking, but not always. 

“And if I don't take it?” Enjolras looked up at her, the look on her face was all the answer he needed, “Right.” 

He could swallow it or someone else could make him swallow it. He knew he probably wouldn't get away with hiding it in his mouth, he hadn't practiced it, he knew now that was a mistake. But taking medication like this that you didn't need was not a good idea.

“You seem like a really, honestly nice person, so I am terribly sorry for this,” Enjolras said before tipping the pill onto the floor and crushing it with his heel. It hurt his foot a bit, and now everyone was staring at him and Enjolras had a feeling that this was about to get a little out of hand.

There was a stunned silence as everyone at his table looked between each other and Enjolras, except for Grantaire who was just staring at him with surprise and curiosity, Enjolras could feel his gaze on the side of his face like a brand.

“I'm not crazy,” He said pointedly, “I'm not mentally unwell and I therefore do not need any kind of medication, so I won't be taking any medication.”

There was an honest look of surprise on the nurse's face, though what about this was surprising Enjolras wasn't sure. She surely must be used to patients being uncooperative.

“Why don't we go and speak to Joly about this and he can clear everything up?” She looked only a little unsure, and Enjolras was both surprised and relieved that she hadn't just called an orderly to restrain him so she could shove the pill down his throat.

“That sounds reasonable.”

The nurse beckoned for someone to come over and then Feuilly was escorting him towards Joly's office with a look of amused confusion.

“What is it?” Enjolras asked after a few minutes of silence. He couldn't help but worry that he'd given himself away.

“I've never seen someone refuse to take their meds so politely before, it's a little disconcerting actually,” Feuilly replied with an amused smile. Enjolras was glad he didn't look suspicious, at least his cover wasn't completely blown.

Joly was in his office when they arrived though he did look surprised to see them.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He asked with a slight frown.

“He wouldn't take his medication,” Feuilly explained, “Musichetta suggested we come and speak with you about it.”

“Ah, I see,” Joly looked mildly annoyed, “I told them it wasn't a good idea,” and Enjolras got the impression that comment wasn't meant for him to hear, “Thank you Feuilly, I can handle this.”

Feuilly shut the door behind him as he left and Enjolras sat down in the chair by the doctor's desk.

“I wasn't supposed to see you for a couple of hours, but maybe it would be best if we had a chat now, if that's okay?” Enjolras just nodded, “It's important that you know that while you're here I won't force you to talk about anything you're uncomfortable with, and you should never have been expected to take any medications we hadn't discussed beforehand, do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Joly smiled, “Now it might be a good idea to discuss your sleeping schedule, so that we can work on getting you back to a normal routine. How many hours a night do you usually sleep?”

“It depends,” Enjolras decided the easiest thing to do in this situation was stick to the truth, “I don't always sleep, I mean not every night. I'll sleep maybe four or five nights a week, and get maybe four to six hours a night.”

“And do you ever take naps or sleep during the day?”

“Not on purpose,” Enjolras shrugged, “but it has happened.”

“Okay,” Joly made several notes on the paper in front of him, “And I noticed you put unemployed on your intake forms, and no permanent address?”

“Well, I don't have time to work a job on top of...everything else,” Enjolras made his tone as serious as possible, “And I travel a lot. Evil is everywhere so I have to go from place to place, I usually stay in motels.”

“Do you mind if I ask you when you started?” Joly tilted his head slightly, “How long have you been hunting evil?”

“Well, pretty much since I figured out what was out there. It wasn't long after my mother died I suppose,” Enjolras was glad he'd put so much thought into his cover, but silently sent an apology his real mother who was of course alive and well, “So, about two years.”

“And if you don't mind my asking, when was your last relationship?” Joly must've seen Enjolras' surprise, “You don't have to tell me anything you're not comfortable sharing.”

“No, it's fine,” Enjolras thought back to his last relationship, “I suppose it was when I was in college, so maybe three or four years ago?” Had it really be that long?

“And you haven't wanted a relationship in all that time?”

“I haven't had time, the life I lead, it doesn't leave much space for personal relationships,” which was one hundred percent the truth.

“Doesn't it get lonely?” The softness in Joly's voice made Enjolras frown. 

“I'm fine being alone, I don't need to rely on someone else for my happiness,” Enjolras knew he was getting defensive, but he couldn't help it.

“And that's definitely a good thing, but sometimes it's nice to be able to share your life with someone,” Joly smiled kindly, “Just, something to think about.”

Joly asked more questions and tried to prompt Enjolras to speak more, but Enjolras didn't want to give too much away too quickly, he had to make this story last. He had to keep up the lie.

He didn't end up leaving Joly's office until the time his official appointment was supposed to end, which meant it was lunchtime and he'd spent the entire morning talking to the doctor. When he arrived in the dining hall his new friends were eager for information.

“That was a pretty ballsy stunt you pulled this morning,” Bahorel said with no small amount of admiration, “Didn't know you had it in you.”

“No but seriously have you been in Joly's office all morning? You're not exactly the talkative type I can't really imagine-” Bossuet was cut off by Courfeyrac.

“You're like all anyone's talking about today, I mean really it's pretty cool, everyone's been asking me if I know you and what your deal is and how come-”

“Guys,” Grantaire warned, staring at each of the group around the table who were practically all talking over each other by that point. Courfeyrac stopped bouncing in his seat, Jehan sighed mournfully and the others all looked at Grantaire apologetically. Enjolras smiled gratefully at him before sitting down to eat.

Enjolras was a little bit nervous about group therapy as he, Grantaire and Bahorel made their way to one of the rooms R had pointed out yesterday. There was a circle of chairs in the middle of the room, some of them already occupied. Grantaire motioned for Enjolras to take a seat next to him so he did, and Bahorel sat on Grantaire's other side. 

When the doctor came in Enjolras had no trouble believing he was coming straight from medical school. He was clearly young, not much older than Enjolras himself, but he had the appearance of someone much older and wiser. He had sandy brown hair and glasses, his skin was fair and overall he had the look of a kind librarian. Which, really when Enjolras' thinks about it, isn't that far off from they way you expect a doctor to look.

“I'm Combeferre,” he gave a small smile as he sat down.


	4. Something I've Noticed

The group session started out normally enough, a few of the other patients took turns speaking, complaining about their ex-wives or ranting about how the birds were staring at them through the window.

But apparently Combeferre had been warned about Grantaire.

“Grantaire, did you want to share with the group?” Combeferre asked with a level voice, “Maybe you want to discuss your dreams with the group, I heard they've been quite eventful.”

“Miller,” Grantaire said pointedly, “is a terrible gossip,” but he was grinning.

“He was actually quite concerned that the robots in your dream might be a symbol for how you see yourself,” Combeferre said, sounding every bit the concerned doctor, “Though apparently there were some sharks that gave him pause,” And Grantaire could swear he actually saw amusement curl the doctor's mouth.

“I was worried about the sharks myself,” Grantaire deadpanned, “They don't usually sing do they?” Grantaire put a look of concern on his face, acting completely innocent. He always tried to have fun in group.

“No, they definitely don't,” Combeferre smiled, “It was actually the robots that fascinated me, Miller suggested and I'm inclined to agree, that the robots might be symbolic of how you feel about your sexuality.”

“Hmm,” Grantaire pretended to think about that, fighting the urge to tell the doctor where he could shove his opinions and storm out, “Here I was thinking the robots were more symbolic of my fascination with gender norms and the exploitation in the fashion industry. But, your theory has merit too I guess.”

The entire circle was looking between the two men with looks varying from amusement to actual fear, they knew what Grantaire was capable of. 

“Well, it's a different perspective to consider at least,” Combeferre shrugged, his smile congenial as ever, “And what about you Enjolras? Anything you want to talk about to the group?”

“Not even a little bit.”

“Not even what happened in the dining hall this morning?” Combeferre prompted.

“Did something happen in the dining hall this morning?” Enjolras asked directing his question to Grantaire with an innocent expression, “I must've missed it.”

“I see,” his smile somehow looked even more knowing, which should not have been possible, “Anything else going on with you lately? No changes you want to talk about?”

“No, I mean really things are the picture of normality with me,” And Grantaire was liking Enjolras even more with each passing second, something else that really shouldn't have been possible, but that seemed to be the tune of Grantaire's life.

The rest of the circle chatted inanely with Combeferre, and usually Grantaire would've chimed in with some sarcastic comment or an insincere opinion that it was always funny to watch the doctors take seriously. But it seemed to Grantaire that Combeferre might be a bit more perceptive than the other doctor's at this place, bordering on actually being good at his job. No one was more shocked than Grantaire. But he couldn't help but think that someone as sincere as Combeferre wouldn't last long at this place. Though honestly Grantaire was still mad at the jab about his sexuality and he couldn't find it within himself to care whether or not the doctor was good at his job, he was still a prick.

Grantaire was acutely aware that he still had two more group sessions with Combeferre to get through this week and suddenly he wasn't really looking forward to them. It didn't matter that he didn't really care what the other patients thought about him, he really didn't like the idea of someone else being able to read him that easily. He hadn't mentioned to any of the quacks here anything about his sexuality, and he knew Miller would never have come to that conclusion. No, it was clear Combeferre had come up with that one all on his own, and Grantaire had no idea how. It was making him feel defensive and vulnerable in a way he hadn't felt in a while, and he didn't like it. He did not like it one bit.

When everyone was gathered in the rec hall that afternoon before dinner Grantaire knew he was being more quiet than usual, he just didn't have it in him to join in with the others watching Feuilly and Bahorel's epic chess game (Bahorel's talent for chess had been a surprise to everyone). He thought for a while that with everyone preoccupied he'd be able to sulk in private, but of course Jehan noticed, Jehan noticed everything.

“What's the matter R?” Jehan frowned leaning his head on R's shoulder after scooting his chair closer, “You seem sad.”

“I'm not sad,” Grantaire's smile was one of affection, rather than actual happiness, “I'm being the brooding silent type. It's a new thing I'm trying.”

“Bahorel told me what happened in group today,” Jehan had a unique way of cutting through Grantaire's bullshit that he wasn't sure whether to resent or be grateful for.

“It was nothing.”

“Now, we both know that's a lie,” Jehan sighed, “Frankly I'm hurt that you don't think you can talk to me about this.”

“It's not that I don't want to talk to you about it, it's that I just don't want to talk about it.”

“And how has that been working out for you recently?” Jehan raised his eyebrows and looked up at Grantaire without moving his head from the other man's shoulder, “All I'm saying is that I'm here to talk if you need to, or just to listen because I have a reputation as an amazing listener you know.”

“You have a reputation as an amazing something alright,” Grantaire grinned, earning him a light smack from Jehan, who despite the physical violence was also smiling, “The funny thing is, it's not even me that has a problem with my sexuality. Historically it's other people who can't handle me being gay, so he was totally wrong anyway.”

“Except for the fact that you tend to internalise people's negative comments about you,” Jehan attempted a shrug but was thwarted by his awkward position, “It's just something I've noticed about you.”

“You really think I'm so fucking transparent?” Grantaire couldn't help but be frustrated, but he did feel slightly guilty for snapping at Jehan, it wasn't his fault after all. He wasn't angry at Jehan, he was angry at Combeferre, and really mostly he was just angry at himself.

“I see it because I care about you Grantaire,” Jehan smiled sadly, “I see you.”

“Sorry I'm being such an asshole,” Grantaire sighed, slinging his arm around Jehan's shoulders, “It's just the only reason I'm really in this place is because my parents were that ashamed of me.”

“That's because they can't see you,” Jehan snuggled into R's side, “You're a beautiful person inside and out and if other people can't see that it's their loss really.”

“We are going to have to talk about that you know?”

“Talk about what?” 

“I know that Joly said you were ready to be released,” Grantaire sighed, “For what, a couple of months now?”

“Yeah well, I'm not ready,” Jehan grumbled.

“I think you are,” Grantaire petted Jehan's hair softly, “And if you're staying in here because of me, I'm going to tell you right now to stop being an idiot.”

“It's not...” Jehan sighed, “It's not just because of you. Yes, I am worried about you, because the others seem to think you're some kind of superhero who doesn't need help, face it, you need me. But it's also because out there, I'd be alone and I'm just not ready to give you guys up yet.”

“I'm really offended Jehan,” Grantaire tried to hide his smile, “I'll have you know I'm Hercules, better even. I'm Samson without the hair thing and the attraction to dangerous women,” he paused, “without the attraction to women at all really.”

Jehan laughed and that was all Grantaire needed to start feeling okay again. He knew he'd have to talk to Jehan more about getting out of this place, but selfishly he was glad the poet was still around. He really did need him.


	5. Land of the Blind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait. I've been getting so many ideas for new fics, so I've been writing a lot, but not for this fic. I am so sorry. But I'm working on it now, I promise.

If Enjolras was anyone else he might be worried at how quickly and easily he'd settled into life at a mental hospital. But Enjolras is much too self-assured for that, so instead of worrying about his mental health he was just thankful that he was being accepted without too much fuss. His cover was working.

What did surprise Enjolras was how close he was becoming to the other patients. More than just using them as a source of information about the inner working of the hospital, he was finding he actually enjoyed their company, and getting to know them. Especially Jehan. They'd been talking since they both decided to head to their room early after Bahorel had lost his temper at a particularly antagonistic woman who'd felt compelled to insult chess. Bahorel had been escorted to his room by two orderlies and Grantaire had had a long conversation with the woman, which ended in her crying and clutching to his chest. Enjolras really couldn't figure Grantaire out.

“Are you okay after this morning?” Jehan asked quietly from where he was sprawled on his stomach on the bed facing Enjolras, “And this isn't me prying, I'm just showing concern because you're my roommate and I care.”

“It was really nothing,” Enjolras shrugged, adjusting his crossed legs underneath him, “Honestly, even Joly said that they weren't supposed to be giving me meds. I don't need them.”

Jehan paused for a minute, clearly deep in thought. Enjolras could tell he was trying to figure out the right way to say something from the way he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times.

“It's not unusual in this place to be given a pill you don't really need,” he finally said, “I'm pretty sure R's on at least three that he doesn't need and at this point I'm not sure even he knows what half of them are meant to be for. The hospital gets paid by pharmaceutical companies to prescribe their drugs, they get like a certain cut for every patient they put on whatever the new drug is.”

Enjolras couldn't hide the disgust on his face. He'd suspected something similar, but to know it was really happening, and that the patients knew about it? But maybe what shocked him most was that it was happening to Grantaire and he didn't seem to care.

“Most of us don't mind taking whatever pills they give us, for different reasons,” Jehan pulled a face at that, “but if you really don't want to take a pill they want you to Bossuet can teach you how to fake it. He's actually gotten quite good at it,” there was a note of pride in Jehan's voice that Enjolras smiled at.

“I'll keep that in mind, though I think for now they're okay to let me go on unmedicated,” Enjolras wanted to ask why Bossuet needed to fake taking his meds, but Grantaire's rules were still in his mind so he didn't.

“Yeah, they really shouldn't spring anti-psychotics on someone who's not expecting it, dumb move on their part,” and Jehan seemed to instantly know he'd said too much, “I mean, I only noticed because it's the same one Eponine is on and it's a pretty distinctive colour and shape and not because I was being nosey or prying into your business.”

“It's fine,” Enjolras tried to reassure the slightly panicked man, “I have a feeling things don't always stay secret in this place for long anyway.”

“Actually you might be surprised,” Jehan smiled shyly, “All the patients are really respectful of each other's business. Though I suspect that's mostly because they all respect R too much to risk his judgement.”

“That is something I've noticed,” Enjolras nodded, “Everyone seems to revere Grantaire in a way I don't fully understand.”

“Grantaire's been here a fairly long time,” Jehan said, sitting up on the bed. He was choosing his words carefully again, “Not the longest, but longer than most of us, but really that's only part of it. R is one of the only people who honestly cares about this place and all the people who call it home,” Jehan's smile was so full of love. “Everyone trusts and respects him and really it just happened naturally, he doesn't ask anyone to follow him, they just do.”

And that Enjolras can understand. 

“In the land of the blind the one eyed man is king?” Enjolras asked with a genuine smile.

“Something like that,” Jehan laughed. “When I first got here I was not doing well, I mean obviously you generally have to be pretty bad to end up in a place like this,” his smile turned rueful, “I didn't handle it well, but Grantaire was there for me, even though he didn't know me, he helped me. I'm not sure I would've lasted too long here without him, and that's true for a lot of patients here.”

Not for the first time Enjolras couldn't help but imagine what illness the kind poet could have, especially if the very thought of his early days here was enough to turn his smile sad.

“I guess that explains it then,” Enjolras smiled, “And I'm glad you're doing better,” and he honestly, completely means it.

“Thanks,” Jehan smiles brightly, “Though, I mean, I don't want to give you the wrong impression...” he bites his lip, “I'm not ashamed of my mental health, but I guess I'm also really aware of the stigma, like everyone here is I guess. But you are my roommate and so really that's reason enough to tell you...just in case. Because yes, I'm doing much better now, I mean I recognise that my current hypomanic state is manageable, though I'm usually pretty functional, the only outward signs would really be the lack of sleep and the volume of poetry I've been inspired to write. But it has been worse in the past and it can be fairly unpredictable, as is the way with Bipolar disorder really.”

Enjolras was acutely aware that he was being trusted with something big. Jehan was giving him the opportunity to either prove himself a friend or not, and if Enjolras couldn't accept Jehan's confession things might not go well, for either of them really.

“And the depressive episodes are better too?” Enjolras asks tentatively. He knows a little about the illness from the psychology course he took in college.

“Oh much better, barely noticeable sometimes, just a low mood or some general anxiety. Sometimes meds actually can be helpful,” his smile is teasing, Enjolras smiles back.

“Well, for some people at least,” he retorts, “I'm glad this place has helped you, it doesn't seem that that's the case for everyone,” Enjolras shrugged, hoping the gentle prompting might be enough to get more information from his roommate.

“This place sure has it's flaws, I mean Bossuet's not even supposed to be here for crying out loud,” and there was a vexation in Jehan's voice that told Enjolras this was something of a long-standing point of irritation for the poet.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, it's his story to tell,” Jehan sighed, “but he's not ill. Not even they've got the wrong diagnosis, which happens a lot, he's not mentally ill at all!” And Enjolras probably would not have been able to imagine Jehan sounding so angry and frustrated until that moment, “I think maybe Joly's starting to believe him a little bit, but really he's been here months now, surely it doesn't take that long to figure out-” Jehan cut himself off, “Sorry, it's just kind of an issue for me. Bossuet just kind of laughs it off, it doesn't seem to bother him so much, so I guess I feel like I have to be doubly as bothered for him.”

“You all seem very close,” Enjolras noted with the vague intention of steering the conversation away from the topic that got Jehan so worked up.

“Yes, we are,” Jehan smiles fondly, “I suppose it's part circumstance, part personality. We all just kind of fit. Like individual pieces that make up a completed puzzle when slotted together.”

All Enjolras can do is hum in response. He's never really had any close friends so he can't really relate, but he can tell this group has formed a very strong bond. He'd almost be jealous, if he didn't know this bond was formed almost out of necessity, in a mental hospital that was doing nothing for their mental health.

Their conversation ends, but the silence is a comfortable one as both men got settled into individual tasks. Jehan was scribbling away in notebook after notebook at his desk, where he has stacks of them. Enjolras was quietly sat on his bed making notes and plans in his own notebook. He hadn't set himself a timetable, because he hadn't been sure exactly what would greet him in this place, but he did have plans. 

He stayed up quite late, or rather early, going over details and the maps he'd memorised, filed neatly away in his mind. Eventually though even he had to succumb to sleep. And he managed to get nearly five hours, which for him was a good night's rest.

The next morning was even more dramatic than the last, maybe Enjolras should have expected that, given his thorough research of the place. Still, nothing could have prepared him for seeing Grantaire getting punched in the face by an orderly. And he hadn't even sat down for breakfast yet.

Grantaire was just stood there laughing at something Bossuet had said, when the orderly seemed to come out of nowhere, rushing over to him with a dangerous glint in his eyes. Grantaire barely even had time to process his presence before a fist was pulled back and connected with his face. Enjolras could hear the impact of knuckles to cheek from where he was stood some distance away. Grantaire was pushed back with the force of the blow, landing on the floor with a heavy thud.

“You think you're so fucking special,” the orderly snarled, looking down to where Grantaire was still on the floor, “You're nothing! You're just another head-case!” he shouted, delivering two hard kicks to Grantaire's abdomen.

Enjolras wasn't entirely sure what to do, intervening could just make the situation worse, but he couldn't sit back and do nothing. The decision was taken out of his hands when Joly came running over, grabbing the orderly by the arms and heaving him away.

“Montparnasse! What the hell do you think you're doing?” he spat. Ahh, so this was the famous Montparnasse, “Escort him to Javert!” Joly said to two orderlies who'd been standing nearby watching the whole thing, practically throwing Montparnasse at them. The fury gleaming in his eyes, fists clenched.

Enjolras might have to re-evaluate his opinion on Joly after all. The good doctor looked ready to kill.


	6. A Master At Both

Grantaire had been half expecting the punch, though he hadn't really anticipated the force of 'Parnasse's rage. He'd definitely said worse to the hot-headed orderly before, with only a black eye given in private. He'd never expected Montparnasse to attack him in front of everyone else, though he imagined the orderly wouldn't be fired for it. It took a lot to get fired from this place. He did hope, however, that Montparnasse might finally get reassigned permanently to another ward.

“Grantaire? Are you okay?” Joly asked, kneeling down next to him.

“I'm fine,” he nodded, sitting up, trying not to wince at the pain in his ribs. Fuck, Montparnasse sure had a solid kick.

“Marius,” Joly called out, “Would you check him over to make sure? Send him downstairs if he needs any further medical treatment.”

Grantaire wanted to insist he was fine and that everyone should just stop fussing, but he knew it would do no good. At least it was Marius and not one of the other nurses. So he didn't complain as Marius helped him up and walked him into the small nurses office.

“I'm honestly fine Marius,” he sighed. But Marius just gave him a look that clearly said he didn't believe a word Grantaire was saying. Which was frankly insulting, except that, okay yeah, fair enough.

“Come on, shirt off,” Marius prompted.

“Marius, what will Cosette think?” Grantaire schooled his face into innocent shock, “But if you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was ask,” he added with a wink.

Marius raised an eyebrow at him, but Grantaire could tell he was trying not to smile. He laughed as he pulled his shirt over his head, ignoring the pain the action caused him.

“How is your lovely fiancée anyway?” 

“She's doing really well actually,” Marius smiled brightly, “Oh, and you remember that paper you helped her with? Well she wanted me to tell you she got it back and she got a ninety-seven, highest mark in the class apparently,” and the pride was obvious in his voice.

“I didn't actually help, it was all her. I just offered a few opinions is all,” Grantaire smiled, even as Marius probed his painful ribs, “I'm glad she did well though. Not surprised of course, she's a smart one your Cosette.”

“She really is.”

“When will we be seeing her again?” Grantaire asked as Marius continued feeling his abdomen.

“I'm not sure, her dad's still funny about it you know? They got into kind of a fight about it actually, Cosette thinks he's keeping secrets from her still.”

From what Marius and Cosette had told him there was kind of a backstory to her father's overprotective nature that not even Cosette fully understood. They were very close though, despite Cosette being adopted, she clearly loved her father very much.

“Well, let her know we all miss her around here. But also that we understand her not wanting to hang around the nuthouse on her weekends,” he added with a laugh.

Marius made a face at that but didn't say anything, merely nodded.

“There's no damage as far as I can tell, you'll have some pretty nasty bruises though,” he said finally and Grantaire pulled his white cotton shirt back on, “I can give you something for the pain though, if it hurts?”

“Yeah, that would be good,” Grantaire nodded. He would never admit it, not even to Marius, but it did hurt pretty badly.

When Marius had handed him the strongest painkiller he could without having to ask one of the doctors, which wasn't as strong as Grantaire might've liked, they both went back out to the dining hall. Grantaire still hadn't eaten, and Marius needed to finish handing out the morning meds.

When Grantaire gets back to his table all of his friends are already gathered, and he instantly has to fend off questions and concerns.

“I'm fine guys honestly,” he says over their well-meaning, worried chatter.

“That fucker's lucky I was sleeping in this morning,” Bahorel growls, looking exceptionally angry and ready for a fight.

“Bahorel,” Grantaire sighs, “Deep breaths yeah? I'm fine, he's gone. Everything worked out, and you are not starting a fight with some innocent bystander just because you're in a mood, understood?”

After a moment Bahorel nods, rather reluctantly, but Grantaire's going to class this one as a win. Especially when he sees Bahorel trying to take deep breaths out of the corner of his eye.

After that everyone thankfully dropped the subject, and Grantaire tried eating some of the cold not-really-scrambled-eggs on his plate. The food in this place was honestly disgusting at times, and really only barely edible the rest of the time.

“I totally forgot,” Marius said after handing everyone their pills, “I'm supposed to give this to you.”

Grantaire looked down at the piece of paper Marius passed him to see a new timetable printed on it. 

“This must be wrong,” he said shaking his head, “I've always had one-on-one with Miller,” he didn't need to add 'because he's the only one who's stupid or gullible or idiotic enough to put up with me', everyone was well aware of that.

“Who have they switched you to?” Jehan asked.

“The new guy, Combeferre,” Grantaire replied through gritted teeth, “That total fucker.”

He'd obviously requested this. Maybe he thought he'd be able to get through to Grantaire, or maybe he'd just become aware that Miller was a total hack, but either way Grantaire wasn't happy with it. Grantaire really wasn't happy about it all. He'd been with Miller for a long time now, they'd developed something of an understanding. He'd pretend to give Miller what he asked for, and Miller would continue being an ignorant twat and a truly terrible psychiatrist. Everyone was happy.

But Combeferre was something else. Combeferre wouldn't be placated by made up dreams and lies about his past and answers that were almost straight out of the text book. No, Grantaire could tell that Combeferre was going to be much more difficult to deal with, because Combeferre was definitely a prick, but one who seemed to be good at his job. He'd definitely try to make Grantaire actually take therapy seriously. Awesome.

Individual sessions are much more rigid than group therapy. You get one doctor and you have to meet with them a set number of times a week, so really Grantaire is stuck with the new doctor, whether he likes it or not. He decidedly does not.

But still, not much choice. So, he leaves his friends after breakfast to make his way to Combeferre's assigned room. He's glad that after this he gets to spend the rest of the day hanging out in the rec area, because he's almost definitely going to need the down time.

“Good to see you again Grantaire,” Combeferre greets him warmly from his seat. Grantaire slumps down into the one chair up for him, opposite the doctor.

“I have that effect on people,” he shrugs with a smirk.

“I'm sure you do,” Combeferre's smile is almost friendly, what an asshole, “I hope you don't mind seeing me instead of Dr Miller from now on?”

“You make it sound like I have some sort of choice in the matter,” Grantaire rolls his eyes, his voice enthused with no small amount of bitterness.

“You do,” Combeferre frowns, “I'm just here to help you, if you want it. I'm not going to condescend to you, and I'm well aware you haven't been taking therapy seriously,” he smiles with obvious amusement, “Miller and I had a very interesting conversation. I can't force you to take this seriously, so I'm not going to try.”

“Well, that's one way to avoid mutual disappointment I suppose,” Grantaire grins. But he's confused, he'd expected Combeferre to list off the many benefits of talk therapy before asking him about his childhood. This, this is not what he was expecting at all.

“I suppose it is,” and Combeferre is still smiling, “We do, however, have an hour to kill. So, it's up to you, we can either sit in silence or talk?”

“Well I am a master at both,” he smirks, “What would you like to talk about doctor?”

“Maybe you could tell me a little bit about this place,” Combeferre suggests, “I am new after all.”

“That you are.”

And so Grantaire tells him about some of the staff (“All morons obviously.”) and some of the patients (“Selma is the most endearing, bat-shit crazy woman you will ever meet.”). He doesn't talk about his friends, he doesn't talk about himself. Combeferre laughs at some of his stories and only asks a few questions, and it's only at the end of the hour that Grantaire's initial confusion returns.

Combeferre actually seems like a nice guy, which is just fucking annoying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to push the actual plot along I promise. Also Enjolras finds out more about R. So, it should be a good one.


	7. Burning Them Behind Him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been nearly a year since this was updated. I am a terrible, horrible person. But my laptop spent a lot of time breaking down before it died for good and I've only just gotten a permanent replacement. The aim is to get out at least one chapter a week, and based on my outline there will be 13 chapters total.
> 
> I hope you guys can forgive me and don't hate me too much. After this I will never post another WIP again. I'm terrible at it.

The whole thing was going easier than Enjolras had hoped. Jehan had snuck out to visit Courfeyrac and Enjolras had known that this was the best chance he'd get to sneak into Joly's office to look around for anything incriminating or helpful. After that it had really been too easy to sneak out and down to the office, which was unlocked. Enjolras only found this mildly suspicious. Mostly he made a mental note to mention the terrible security this place apparently had.

Once inside Enjolras began searching through drawers and cabinets looking for something he could use. He doesn't find anything of interest until he gets to the patient files. Enjolras only allows himself a moment of inner conflict before rifling through them.

He considers not opening Grantaire's file, but Jehan's earlier words ring in his mind. If R is on medication he doesn't need, the evidence will be in his file. That evidence is worth any minor breach of trust, because Grantaire doesn't need to ever find out that Enjolras saw his file.

He honestly means to flick straight through to the page listing medications, but somehow he ends up reading the whole thing. And he almost wishes he never opened it in the first place.

Grantaire had been put into his first inpatient mental hospital at the age of fifteen, and since then had spent more time in hospitals than out. He'd been at Bradey for over four years now, and his list of diagnoses had been amended and changed several times over the years. When he first came in he suffered from alcohol withdrawal, including delirium tremens, which Enjolras was fairly sure was pretty extreme. But some of the changed diagnoses didn't really make sense so Enjolras focuses on the diagnosis that haven't changed: Alcoholism, Bipolar type I and Borderline Personality Disorder. Insomnia has appeared on and off over the years as well.

There's a note in his file stating that his parents have power of attorney due to his mental health and that they have final say over if he ever gets released. They must have petitioned the court for it, considering Grantaire's age is listed as twenty five. An addendum to the note claims that they gave the hospital permission to pretty much do what they want with Grantaire while he's here. Enjolras can't help the sickening feeling in his gut.

Someone has written that Grantaire's only visitor while he's been here was his sister, but that she stopped visiting nearly two years ago. So his parents just handed him over to the hospital and forgot about him? Enjolras can practically feel his blood boiling.

No wonder Grantaire doesn't care that he's being given medication he doesn't need, obviously being incorrectly diagnosed a few times over the years in order to cover it up. He wonders if anyone has ever cared about Grantaire in his life at all. Then he remembers the way Jehan talked about him, the way the others listen to him and respect him. Maybe this place has been good for Grantaire after all. But to what end?

Enjolras can't let the hospital get away with this, but for the first time he's starting to consider the ramifications of his actions. What will happen to Grantaire if this place gets shut down? And what about the others? An uncomfortable weight settles on Enjolras' shoulders and he finds he's not sure what to do with it.

He tucks the file back into the cabinet and tries not to think about how much of a clear violation it was to even read it. Enjolras can't help but see Grantaire a little differently now. And really, how did he let this man become such a distraction? Sure, the information about the excessive prescriptions was useful, it went some way to proving the hospital was guilty of malpractice. But still, Enjolras needed to focus on the big picture.

It's obvious he needs more. He needs information on the man in charge himself, Javert. It's public knowledge that he went into the psychiatry business because his parents were both mentally ill themselves, that he was in fact born in a mental hospital. What Enjolras couldn't figure out was how someone like that, someone with such a personal connection could do things like this to vulnerable people who need his help. It's a mystery, and Enjolras doesn't like unsolved mysteries.

Back in his room, Enjolras had a lot to think about. He pushes Grantaire out of his mind, the confusing man who fascinates Enjolras more than is probably wise. He focuses on what he came here for, focuses on uncovering the truth and making sure everyone knows it. It’s easier if he doesn’t think too much on what comes after, on what his words will do to the people here. Enjolras’ focus is righting wrongs and uncovering evil, he’s never really given much consideration to the individuals before, it’s starting to feel like an oversight. The guilt is an unwelcome feeling that he does his best to ignore.

Unfortunately it’s not as easy as he would have hoped, trying not to dwell on the gnawing feeling in his gut telling him that he’s making a mistake, that everything he thought is wrong. He feels wrong-footed and unsure and it’s not something he’s ever really experienced before, not like this. He wants to blame Grantaire for being an enigma and a distraction, but he thinks maybe the fault lies with himself. Perhaps if he’d ever thought of the people whose lives he was affecting, maybe he wouldn’t be having such a crisis of conscience when it was already too late. 

Because honestly, he was already inside, there was no turning back now. Was there? 

Enjolras turned over onto his stomach and buried his head in the pillow, trying in vain to stifle the thoughts running around his head. He’d never doubted so much before, never been anything less than one hundred percent certain. It was awful. He really wanted to hate Grantaire.

It was strange to think he’d only been here a few days, everything had gone to hell so quickly, it was bordering on actually insanity. And that was a thought that pulled him up short, of course emotions and stresses were high here, it was an intense environment full of people with unstable personalities. Enjolras thought maybe he could start to count himself among them, he was starting to feel rather unstable himself, but he couldn’t tell if it was a product of his environment or if it was something that had always been true. He supposed it didn’t matter either way. He had a job to do and he was going to do it to the best of his ability and he’d cross his bridges when he came to them. Hopefully he wouldn’t be burning them behind him.

Enjolras didn’t sleep that night but honestly he wasn’t surprised, it wasn’t unusual for him to miss sleep. Honestly he expected Joly to prescribe him sleeping pills sooner rather than later, was actually surprised he hadn’t already. He wondered idly if it was because the hospital didn’t get paid to prescribe sleeping pills, but easily decided that from what he’d seen and observed of the kind doctor he wouldn’t let that stop him.

“Did you not sleep?” Jehan asks as he shuffles into the room early in the morning, the sunlight has only just started to filter in through the blinds, still muted and grey.

“No,” Enjolras shrugs, “Just one of those nights I guess.”

“Fair enough,” Jehan smiles kindly. It's obvious that he at least got a few hours sleep, based on the way he's slowly blinking and snuffling like he only just woke up. 

Watching Jehan shuffle around the room getting ready makes the guilt slam back into him, he harshly pushes it back down and looks away. It's no use feeling guilty, what's done is done.


	8. That Way Madness Lies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not exactly happy with this chapter? It's been the hardest to write for some reason and nothing really happens? It's also the shortest chapter so far and I feel like something's missing...
> 
> But I can never successfully rewrite chapters, so you're getting it as is. Please let me know if it's as bad as I think it is <3

The only thing Grantaire had to deal with for that day was another group session, but after yesterday's conversation with Combeferre he wasn't really worried about it. Maybe Combeferre wouldn't be as easily manipulated at the other doctors here, but R was now fairly confident he wasn't going to be a dick about it.

Either way it gave him time to observe Enjolras. Grantaire had a pretty free afternoon yesterday, so he was able to watch as the new guy interacted with everyone and see the way he acted as he got more comfortable. The man R had observed yesterday seemed different to the one he was seeing now at the table while everyone ate breakfast. He was more sombre, he seemed weighed down and lost in thought. It brought up the question again of what Enjolras was in here for. Grantaire had never been so tempted to ask.

He’d never asked anyone about their life before Bradey, or what landed them here in the first place, at first it was because he didn’t care and then because he knew better than to ask. It didn’t really matter anyway, because for some reason he became the person everyone talks to. Grantaire doesn’t have to ask, people just tell him. It’s gotta be a fucked up situation if Grantaire seems like the most trustworthy person in the room.

Now, he isn’t an idiot, he knows he’s not actually all that special, it’s just that he’s been here longer than most, he knows how things work. Besides, despite himself he does actually care about the patients here, not just his friends, the little family he made for himself, but the others too. 

He looks around the table at his friends and even though some of them have only been here a few months he still can't quite imagine not having them around. He tries not to get lost in the melancholy, so he tunes back into the conversation happening around him.

“So have you guys ever met Javert? Does he ever come up here?” There's an edge in Enjolras' voice, something belying the casual tone he's trying to pull off. Grantaire can't help but narrow his eyes in suspicion, what angle is Enjolras playing?

“He only really comes down before we get an inspection,” Grantaire responds, watching Enjolras' reaction closely, “A few days before an inspection he'll make the rounds of all the wards to make sure everything's in order. Which is code for getting rid of the evidence, obviously.”

The look on the blond's face is more thoughtful than anything, like what Grantaire said is somehow interesting or important information. Now Grantaire is even more sure that there's more to Enjolras than it seems, more than he wants everyone to think. R just can't be sure what the hell it is.

Grantaire decides the only thing to do is keep a close eye on Enjolras, it's not a particular hardship considering the blond isn't exactly hard to look at. Still, it doesn't matter how preternaturally beautiful the man is, Grantaire isn't going to let him do anything that could harm his friends. 

They get through free time in the rec area and then lunch and the only thing that Grantaire has noticed is that Enjolras seems even more lost in his thoughts than he was before. When they make their way to group therapy with Combeferre even Bahorel seems more subdued than usual, it's a little disconcerting if R's being honest with himself, he'd never have used the word 'subdued' to describe Bahorel before. 

During group Grantaire is doubly as sarcastic and snarky as usual, like he's trying to overcompensate for his inner thoughts being so depressing. It doesn't really help and it just makes Combeferre give him knowing, thoughtful looks that don't do much to help either. 

“I think David has a point,” Grantaire smiles. David has a tendency to blame his ex-wife for all his problems, which might be fair considering she sounds like a total controlling bitch. But because of his failed marriage to the she-devil, David has kind of a vendetta against all relationships, it would be funny if it wasn't so sad, “Don't they say fifty percent of marriages end in divorce? Maybe we should abolish the whole institution. Save people like David the trauma.”

“Well, I'd say that if David lets his ex-wife ruin relationships for him, isn't that just another way that she's affected his life,” Combeferre points out with that infuriating calm, “David doesn't want to let her control him anymore, and yet he lets what happened dictate his life. It seems counter-productive to me.”

“I'm not saying David should swear off relationships, obviously,” Grantaire rolls his eyes, because he has actually talked to David about this a couple of times, “but maybe some people just aren't meant for marriage.”

“Do you think you're meant for marriage?”

“Interesting question,” Grantaire smirks, “Actually I think I'd make an excellent housewife. I'm a surprisingly good cook and could probably learn how to clean. Because everyone knows once you get married you end up in a 1950's daytime television show. I'd look awesome in black and white.”

Everyone around the circle laughs amusedly and then the conversation moves on, focusing on Tamsin's latest theory on what they put in the food (mind control drugs). 

When group was over and everyone started rushing out, Grantaire lingered. He motioned for Bahorel and Enjolras to leave without him, which got him the expected odd look from Bahorel and a considering look from Enjolras that R was determined not to think about, because honestly that way madness lies.

When it's just him and Combeferre, the doctor giving him a questioning look, he starts to doubt what he was going to say. He's still not really interested in taking therapy seriously, but he does want to ask a question and he thinks Combeferre might actually be able to give him an answer.

“Hey doc,” he begins a little tentatively, “got a hypothetical question for you.”

“Well I'll do my best to answer,” he nods earnestly.

“Say there was someone in here who was maybe ready to be released,” he shrugs a little, “the doctor's saying they're ready to get out and everything, but they're adamant they're not ready. I mean, how do you know someone's ready to leave?”

“An interesting question,” Combeferre smiles, “Typically a patient will be recommended for release when the doctor thinks they can cope on their own without constant help and support. When the patient is at a point in their treatment where they can function in their day to day life with little to no problem, they don't really need to be here do they?” He shrugs lightly, “That being said, the patient's willingness to leave is something to take into account, if someone is scared or anxious about leaving it might mean they aren't quite ready.”

Grantaire considers that for a long moment, thoughts on Jehan and their conversation.

“How can you tell when a patient is honestly anxious about life after here and when they're just worried about being alone?”

“I don't think there's a way you can know for sure,” he responds almost sympathetically.

“Well, thanks anyway doc,” Grantaire shrugs with a nonchalant smile. “A pleasure as always,” and with that he was out the door and heading to the rec area. He had some thinking to do.


	9. Beautiful and Classical and Surprising

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is the shortest chapter yet, and Chapter 10 will probably be on the short side too. Buuuuut! It's only because Chapter 11 will be the longest chapter probably of the whole story and full of drama and plot and more drama! So, hopefully that will make up for it?

Since finding out on Wednesday morning what it would take to get Javert to the ward, Enjolras hasn't stopped thinking about it. He knows the next phase of the plan involves getting more evidence against the man in charge, anything to make sure he can't plead ignorance. Enjolras needs to prove that Javert not only knows about all the malpractice and wrongdoings going on at his hospital, but that he's complicit in them, orchestrating them.

The thing is, to do that he needs Javert to come to him so he has access. He couldn't find any memos or letters with Javert's name or signature, there didn't seem to be any paper trail in Joly's office that would be evidence of anything. So he needs the man himself. And apparently to do that he needs to set up an inspection. The only way he can think of making this work is to call his editor and see what he can do to help.

He's waited until Friday evening to make use of the payphone in the corridor partly because he's a little reluctant to go to his boss for help. Not because he doesn't think his editor will be able to help or that he'll refuse, it's more because he knows his boss has some personal issues concerning Enjolras' current story and he's hesitant to drag him further into it. Still, Enjolras tried to think of an alternative but there just wasn't one.

The phone only rings a few times before it's picked up with a cordial: “Valjean speaking.”

“Sir, it's Enjolras,” he answers, keeping his voice down, wary of the possibility of someone overhearing him.

“Enjolras! It's good to hear from you, how's everything going in there?” Valjean's voice was full of warmth and genuine concern.

“Everything's going fairly well,” he nodded a little, despite the fact that Valjean couldn't see him, “I was actually calling because I need a favour.”

“What can I do for you?” Valjean offers instantly and with sincerity.

“I need to get Javert to visit the ward if I'm to get the evidence I need, but I've been informed he only does that when an inspection is imminent,” Enjolras explains, “I was wondering if one of your contacts might be able to help set up an inspection soon?”

“Well,” Valjean says thoughtfully, “I might know someone who can help. I'll have to give her a call and see. Call me tomorrow at the same time and I'll have an update for you.”

“Thank you sir,” his tone is full of true gratitude. Valjean is definitely a man who has his respect and admiration for his compassion and his values, he knew he could count on his boss for this.

After getting off the phone with Valjean he's aware that he has nothing to do but wait until tomorrow night. This whole investigation has including more waiting and patience than Enjolras is usually comfortable with, but there was nothing else for it.

Enjolras made his way back to the rec area feeling both heavier and lighter for having delegated part of the work to someone else's hands. It was Friday night, which according to Jehan was 'family night', the one night a week that everyone on the ward all gathered in the rec area after dinner to play games or watch television or otherwise do something together. Enjolras was surprised by the organisation and thoughtfulness of it, until Jehan told him it was R's idea, which actually made much more sense.

He was starting to become more and more drawn to Grantaire and it was becoming harder to remember why it was such a bad idea. The more Enjolras learnt about him, the more he could see how amazing he was, despite the circumstances of his life. Grantaire seemed to be a truly stunning person, both inside and out, and Enjolras was enraptured.

Still, he had to remember where he was, _who_ he was. Grantaire might be interesting, and maybe if they'd met somewhere else it could be different, but it wasn't and he had to remind himself of that. He could not develop an infatuation on someone in a mental hospital, it wasn't going to happen.

Of course those thoughts flew out of his mind when he walked into the rec area and saw R sat at the grand piano by the windows, playing something beautiful and classical and surprising. 

Enjolras didn't know anything about music honestly, couldn't say a word about someone else's musical talent with any kind of authority, but he knew Grantaire was more than good. Knew it by the way that everyone in the room was silent and watching him, by the way his own eyes were transfixed and the music was moving through him. 

It added some new dimension to R that he hadn't seen before, hadn't known to look for. Though at that precise moment Enjolras didn't really know what that was, but he knew it was something beautiful, something captivating, and he knew that he could fall in love with it if he let himself. He couldn't let himself.

It took more effort than he was comfortable thinking about, tearing his eyes away from Grantaire sat at the piano. It was obvious R wasn't really paying attention to his surroundings, his eyes closed as he played flawlessly. At least this meant that no one noticed Enjolras' momentary staring, because everyone else was staring too. 

With shuffling steps Enjolras made his way over to one of the armchairs and picked up a random book from the table. He wouldn't be able to concentrate on the words, but even the allusion of paying attention to something else would help. 

And yet, even with his eyes firmly fixed onto the page in front of him (that he was definitely not actually reading) all he was really aware of was the music filling the air around him. There was really no use fighting it, so he let himself fall back into the beautiful melody and didn't think about anything else.


	10. Grantaire's Shitty Example

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, it was not supposed to take this long for another chapter to come out. I will never post another WIP again I promise. Luckily there are only three more chapters after this one, but it might be kind of unfulfilling after all the build up and the wait, I dunno. The ending has been planned since like the fifth or sixth chapter maybe? And it is a happy ending, not sure how long it's gonna take me to finish this though.

Grantaire has been gearing up for this conversation since he talked with Combeferre. He knows he needs to say something, needs to do something, because he has a responsibility. It's ridiculous and insane, the idea of him having any kind of responsibility, but it doesn't feel uncomfortable like it might have once. Which is fucking terrifying all on its own really.

But he knows Jehan deserves more, more than this place and more than him. Sure Bradey might feel like the lesser of the two evils right now, but it isn't the kind of place you're supposed to make your home, despite Grantaire's shitty example. No one should want to spend more time in here than they have to. Even R hates it here really, but he's resigned to it, decided to make the best of a bad situation. Of course, that was only after months spent angry and pissed off at the world and everyone in it. Bradey wasn't his first hospital, not even close and when his parents had locked him up he'd felt betrayed, he'd thought he had been done with hospitals for good after he'd turned eighteen.

He still wasn't sure why his parents had done what they'd done, why they couldn't just let him be free, but he supposed it didn't really matter. He wasn't getting out without their approval and he knew they'd never give it, for whatever reason. So Bradey was his home, it doesn't have to be Jehan's.

That didn't mean however, that he knew how to have the conversation he was about to have. Because he honestly didn't have a clue what he was doing. At all. Not a one.

“Hey Jehan, you got a minute?”

Jehan's sat on his bed scribbling into his notebook. R had waited for Enjolras to appear at breakfast before heading to their room to speak to Jehan, it's a conversation that deserves some measure of privacy.

“Sure R. What's up?” Jehan's smiling, which is a good sign at least.

“It's about what we were talking about last week,” he knew this was going to be a minefield of a conversation and so he needed to handle it delicately, which wasn't exactly R's forte. “About you getting out of here?”

“My position hasn't changed,” Jehan's expression hardened a little with what was hopefully more determination than agitation, but either way wasn't exactly a great start to this conversation.

“I want to get out of here Jehan,” it wasn't a lie exactly, but it was maybe more about convincing Jehan to leave than the truth, “and it would be better if I knew there was someone on the outside waiting for me.”

There was something soft in Jehan's eyes now, something like pride and fondness. Grantaire only felt the smallest bubble of guilt, because honestly he wanted Jehan to be happy and free, and it wasn't like he was outright lying.

“I'll give it some consideration,” was all Jehan actually said, but R chose to take it as a victory anyway.

It wasn’t until his session with Combeferre that the words he’d said to Jehan really settled into his brain. He’d said what he had to say for Jehan’s benefit, because it was what needed to be said… But maybe there was more to it than that.

“I’ve been thinking about what happens after this place,” he confesses, interrupting the silence they’d settled into.

“Hmm, and what have you been thinking exactly?”

“If I could survive it,” he answers bluntly, there’s no point bullshitting with Combeferre really, and he wants to talk about this, as weird as fuck as that actually is.

“What makes you think you wouldn’t survive it?”

“I’ve basically been in one facility or another since I was fifteen, I’ve been here for over four years, I don’t even know how to handle the real world anymore,” he shrugs like it’s nothing, “and in here I have people ya know? My family is in here, they keep my going and on the right track, out there I’d be alone.”

“You don’t think your friends would still be there for you on the outside?” Combeferre asks, and it’s obvious by his tone what he thinks the reality is. And R remembers what he said to Jehan when they spoke earlier, and thinks huh.

“What would I have to do to get out of here?” 

He hadn’t actually meant to say that. Fucking brilliant. And now Combeferre was giving him a look, a shrink look. Fantastic. 

“What do you mean by that Grantaire?” Combeferre asks in an annoying even voice. It’s the tone of voice that instantly has Grantaire’s metaphorical hackles rising, prompts sarcastic responses and passive aggression. He fights back that instinct now though.

“I mean, I’m in here because of my parents, whatever, but is there a point at which someone could like, override that? Like they have power of attorney cause of all my crazy yeah? So, what if I wasn’t crazy anymore ya know?”

Grantaire wasn’t even sure if he was making sense, he was basically thinking it as he said it, but...what if?

Combeferre is silent for a long minute and Grantaire wants to fidget, wants to shrug it all off with a sarcastic comment, but he bites his tongue and waits. It’s not something he’s naturally good at, but he’ll make an effort because Combeferre’s next words feel important.

“Well, if you could demonstrate that you’re mentally competent to handle your own affairs, with a doctor backing you up on that,” he finally says, “It’s not a difficult process unless your parents were to fight the claim. In which case they’d be allowed to have a different doctor speak to you and make their own assessment. And then it would be a matter for the court.”

R bites back the harsh words he has about his parents and actually thinks about it for a minute. Obviously his parents would fight him, and they’d get a doctor they could insure would be on their side, but if Grantaire had Combeferre and maybe even Joly on his side? It might not be impossible.

“So what would I have to do to prove I’m mentally competent?” he finally asks, and he can’t help but meet Combeferre’s smile with a small one of his own. Yeah, Combeferre’s not so bad.


	11. A Summary of the End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can only apologise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so it's been a year and a half since the last update, and over three years since I started this fic. My level of sorry is so high.
> 
> My only excuse is that I just...fell out of love with this story. I wasn't inspired by it anymore and for that I can only apologise. Rest assured, I will never post another WIP as long as I live.
> 
> But I didn't want to just leave this completely abandoned because I have the last three chapters planned out, I just can't write them at this point. So instead I'm just going to leave you with the general summary of what each chapter would've been focused on/included.

Chapter 11  
\- Javert makes a visit to the ward in preparation for the inspection, Enjolras uses Joly’s phone to call his own voicemail to record Javert ordering Joly to destroy documents and admitting to over medicating patients. He specifically mentions Grantaire and the fact that his parents are paying him to keep their son locked up. Enjolras is sickened (so is Joly) but he now has enough evidence and information to write his story.

Chapter 12  
\- Six months after the article was published, Javert was arrested for medical malpractice and had his license to practice medicine revoked. Jehan has been out of Bradey for over four months, Courf for nearly three, Bossuet for six, Bahorel for two. Grantaire’s parents were arrested? Joly ended up running Bradey and fixing it. With Combeferre’s help Grantaire is now ready to be released into the wild. Grantaire is leaving the hospital and Enjolras is waiting for him outside instead of Jehan. Grantaire is obviously surprised, but Enjolras starts to apologise for sort-of-lying and not visiting and how he wanted to but he wasn’t sure if R would want to see him. Grantaire starts laughing, “Shut up Apollo and take me somewhere with decent coffee, you can tell me all about the real Enjolras.”

Chapter 13  
\- Five years later, Enjolras looks around at all his friends at his and R’s engagement party and thinks about how far they’ve come. Everyone’s happy and laughing and R is glowing and talking to everyone (telling the story of how Enj proposed if his hand movements are anything to go by) and Enjolras thinks life works in mysterious ways sometimes, who would’ve thought that walking into a mental hospital five and half years ago would’ve ended up here.

 

Also, for anyone interested, here's what I noted down for everyone's diagnoses, some might not be wholly accurate (ie. Bossuet) but it's what they were diagnoses with:

Grantaire:  
\- Diagnosed: Alcoholic, Bipolar I - dysphoric, Boderline Personality Disorder, (DTs when in withdrawal), Insomia.  
\- Involuntarily commited by his parents.

Courfeyrac:  
\- Diagnosed: Histrionic personality disorder  
\- Voluntarily committed.

Jehan:  
\- Diagnosed: Bipolar II - euphoric  
\- Voluntarily committed.

Bahorel:  
\- Diagnosed: Intermittent Explosive Disorder  
\- Court mandated involuntary committment

Bossuet:  
\- Diagnosed: Persecutory delusions and paranoia (suspected schizophrenia)  
\- Involuntarily committed

Eponine:  
\- Diagnosed: Schizoaffective disorder (delusions and hallucinations -sometimes pretty severe)  
-Involuntarily committed after being arrested on unrelated charges.

Enjolras:  
\- Diagnosed: Grandiose delusions relating to unknown illness.  
-Voluntarily committed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this is the end of an interesting journey that turned into more of an uphill battle. I just want you guys to know that I'm really sorry for letting you down :( 3

**Author's Note:**

> To be fair, I don't know much about psychiatric hospitals (though I know a little about psychiatric wards) so some things are going to be wrong and not at all like real life. Though the whole idea is that the hospital isn't run properly, so that's kind of the point.
> 
> This fic started as a labour of love, and I'm no longer really in love with it, and I think that really shows in the writing, so I am so, so freaking sorry that the quality has dropped so much since the beginning, there is no excuse and I apologise.


End file.
